


Point Blank

by KateKintail



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been acting jittery during this visit to Bobby's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point Blank

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Triggers: non-con, child abuse
> 
> Disclaimer: No rights. No money. You know the drill.
> 
> Notes: Written for a comment meme on LJ community ohsam

“I think it’s time you leave, John.” Bobby’s words were flat, slow, heavy with meaning. The way John’s eyes were burning back at his made Bobby reach for his shotgun. As a rule, he didn’t keep guns out when there were kids in the house, even though Sam was ten and Dean fourteen and both knew how to use one. But given the gravity of the situation, he felt better having his shotgun at his side.

“Fine,” John replied, his tone matching Bobby’s as he stood up. “I’ll just get my sons and go. Boys, c—“

Bobby stood as well and took a step to the side, putting himself directly between John and Sam. “I don’t think so. Sam’s staying here with me.”

The corner of John’s mouth twitched. “What’s he been saying?” He leaned to the side, craned his neck, trying to look around Bobby. Sam, however, stared at Bobby’s uninteresting living room floor. “Sammy, you been telling stories? You know what I told you would happen to you if you lied again. Now c’mere.”

Sam squeaked uncertainly on his way to a response. But Bobby flung his left hand out, blocking Sam, guiding Sam back behind him without having to touch him. “You ain’t laying a finger on him, not ever again.”

John started forward, but Bobby snapped his gun up into place. Bobby Singer’s aim on a bad day was good enough to hit four ghosts in five shots. But on a day like this, and with the barrel of the shotgun pressed hard into John’s sternum, there was no chance of missing. No possibility John might misinterpret this.

“I see how it is,” John said, his head cocked slightly, charm oozing from him. “You want him for yourself. But that kid’s trouble. You don’t know what you’re getting.”

Bobby placed one hand on the shotgun’s barrel and curled his finger around the trigger. It made John take a step back, lose ground. “You’re not getting him, that’s for damn sure. If he wants to stay with me, he’s welcome here, but I won’t make him do anything.”

Sam touched Bobby then, and the man nearly gave a start in surprise. A small, hesitant hand on the small of his back. Then a thin, warm body pressed to him. One hand, then another, took hold of fistfuls of Bobby’s shirt and stood his ground with his face buried against Bobby’s back.

It was the touch that had tipped Bobby off at first. Sam had always greeted Bobby with a warm, familial hug. And it wasn’t uncommon to see him snuggled up beside his older brother in the backseat of the car or in one of Bobby’s chairs. But this time there was no hug; Sam only smiled at Bobby. A smile that looked… odd. Forced, maybe. Dean was outgrowing hugs and growing into tough, manly handshakes, so Bobby thought his younger brother might be doing the same. Except there’d been no handshake either.

Then Bobby noticed how Sam shied away from any sort of touch. He flinched every time John walked into a room where Sam was. He jumped and dropped a plate when he was loading the dishwasher and John went over to toss a bowl in the sink. And the little kid who had always been so loving and relaxed now looked constantly tense and wary, only smiling when he thought someone was looking at him.

Over an entire week, Bobby had eased it out of him him, told him he was safe no matter what the truth was, and passed the kid Kleenex after Kleenex when he finally broke down. His dad wasn’t just coming down harder with the belt or striking with a closed fist after having one too many gulps of JD. John Winchester had done things that made Bobby want to puke his guts out and then take Sam in his arms with a protective hug. But he couldn’t do either.

He didn’t want Sam to know how disgusted he was, afraid Sam would take it personally. And Sam wouldn’t let Bobby touch him, hadn’t even voluntarily moved close. Until now. Sam clutched him tightly. Little Sammy Winchester would not be moved. He was staying with his protector.

And Bobby was sure as hell going to live up to that trust Sam had placed in him. “John, if I get so much as a hint that you were in town…. if I see tire tracks that look like those or hear about a man fitting your description… if Sam or I ever see you again, I won’t bother aiming at your chest. You’ll have a bullet in your head before you can blink.” Sam’s grip tightened in appreciation.

John stared at him. Then, without breaking eye contact, without blinking, he said, “Dean, we’re going.”

Dean stood instinctively, confusion in his expression as he looked from Bobby to his father and back again. He looked at Bobby’s waist, trying to see his brother through Bobby’s body and not being able to.

Bobby noticed Sam’s hands unclench and clench again. He felt Sam’s heartbeat speed up. He heard Sam’s breath start racing in deep, desperate pants. Panic. But all Bobby could do was stand there, shotgun up. “Dean, ya don’t gotta leave either.”

“Dean!” John snapped, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Dean’s shirt at the collar and shoulder. “We’re going, son. Now!” He marched out, dragging Dean with him. Bobby heard Sam whimper, but only just barely because John left yelling obscenities at the top of his voice. The door to Bobby’s place slammed shut, but John’s yells didn’t stop until the Impala’s door slammed and its roar faded into the distance.

Bobby didn’t realize he had a cramp in his arm from holding the shotgun up and tensing his arm to keep it from shaking, but he winced as he lowered the gun, broke it open, and let the shell slide from the barrel to his living room floor. He stood for a moment, then Sam released his grip and Bobby turned around to see tears streaming down the kid’s face. “Sam…” he started, but a loud, broken, burst of a sob stopped him.

Sam’s wet eyes had been looking up at him. But they broke away and Sam ran. He ran from the room, ran for the door, and let it bang shut behind him.

Bobby followed behind, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion. By the time he reached his front porch, Sam was already there, on his knees, wrapped tight in his older brother’s arms. Dean was rocking with him slowly, back and forth. Dean was whispering guilt-filled apologies on repeat between sobs. Dean was going to need a raw steak for that eye of his. But, for the moment, Bobby just stood and watched over the two boys as the exhaust from the Impala dissipated.

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:  I just really want kickass!protective daddy!Bobby, okay? Sam's been acting jittery the last few times the boys have visited Bobby. He shuns from touches instead of embracing them like he did a few years earlier, and Bobby can't help but notice how quickly Sam's ten-year-old shoulders tense the fuck up whenever John is in the room. Bobby ends up gently confronting Sam about it, and after much prodding, Sam admits to John abusing him in the worst ways possible. Cue Bobby with a shotgun and a threat that if John ever comes within eyesight of him or Sam ever again, he won't hesitate to put a bullet into his head. Bonus points for guilty-Dean for not knowing what was going on, but staying with Sam and Bobby instead of following his father out the door.


End file.
